Marc Foster’s stomach growled as he hurried to the garage. He was running so late, he wouldn’t be able to stop at the café near his gallery for breakfast before he had to meet with his newest client. Six months of playing cat and mouse with this particularly skittish artist was not going to be derailed because he was freaking starving.

But after the latest incident, he was struggling to eat anything in his kitchen. He stubbornly told himself that it was all safe, but his stomach wasn’t buying it. The end result was that he now suffered from shakiness and hunger at odd times because he’d not adjusted his schedule to accommodate his new food issues.

Groaning in frustration, he slapped the button for the garage door opener and stalked over to his new Porsche 911. The gunmetal gray matched the overcast sky and his own mood. He needed to come up with a solution to his new problem. It was becoming a nuisance, but the few solutions that crossed his mind felt worse than a little accidental poisoning. And for now, he needed to focus on the new client.

He climbed into the sports car and tossed his tablet onto the empty passenger seat. The engine rumbled to life with a feral growl, and some of the tension eased from Marc’s shoulders. He really did love this car. Probably too much. He didn’t indulge himself too often; massive purchases and trips were always with an eye for investment growth or business growth. But he’d taken one look at this beautiful little girl on his last trip to Milan and he’d instantly fallen in love. Driving it had been even more addictive than he’d expected.

Before the little nagging voice of doubt started to whisper in his ear, he shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the garage. He quickly tapped the garage door opener as soon as he was clear and deftly maneuvered the car to head down the winding drive.

The tires had barely hit the street when a call rang in through the Bluetooth connection to the speakers. Glancing over at the display, he frowned to see his sister’s name, but he still tapped a button to answer the call.

“Have you left?” she asked in place of a greeting.

“I just pulled out. I thought you were already downtown. I don’t have time to turn around. I’m running late.” His sister had moved into the guest house at the far end of his property after her divorce had been finalized. She had ample money to get her own place, but she’d been with the fucking bastard for nearly a decade before it came out that he’d gotten his mistress—his mistress of six years—pregnant. For Lilah, it wasn’t about starting new but having a safe place to figure out who she was after devoting years to a liar. Marc could at least do that for his older sister.

“No, I’m with Richard at his office. We wanted to know if you could meet us for lunch downtown. One o’clock at Salazar.”

Ugh. Lunch with his oldest brother was not a good time. He could only imagine that his siblings had decided that he was in need of some new lecture about his life, his constant travel, or something else that was not their business. Lilah on her own was generally tolerable, but when she was with their older brother Richard or their other brother Gabriel, she instantly became more judgmental and bossy.

“Salazar is in OTR, not downtown,” he corrected, knowing he was being nitpicky. He didn’t want to go.

“OTR is still a part of downtown,” Richard added, proving that his sister had the phone on speaker.

Yeah, and there were plenty of Over-the-Rhine regulars who would argue that OTR was not part of downtown, but he wasn’t going to get into that with Richard.

“I’ve got a new client in town. I’m heading to a meeting with her right now, and I’m expecting it to last through lunch. Possibly even dinner. I’m trying to convince her to use one of the studios I’ve set up in the city to work here for the next several months.”

Lilah’s extravagant sigh filled the car and Marc rolled his eyes. He quickly drove the car along the winding road. The pavement was dry despite the heavy gray clouds looming overhead. It would be just his luck that the rain didn’t start until he parked in his spot downtown. He should have checked to make sure that he’d tucked a spare umbrella in the trunk.

“I thought that was the whole reason you hired that gallery manager with the purple hair. To schmooze the clients.”

“Come on, Li. You know schmoozing is what Marc does best. Don’t take that from him.”

Marc gritted his teeth until he was sure one of his molars was going to crack under the pressure. Richard was a dick. He thought he was being funny, but almost everything out of his mouth was condescending or pretentious.

“While this call has been lovely, I can’t make it to lunch this afternoon. My day is booked. I also have a show debuting with the new ballet performance starting this week. I won’t be free again for the next week or two.” Marc was proud of how he’d managed to keep his voice even and devoid of sarcasm.

He slowed the car for a stop sign, frowning when it seemed like the brakes took longer than usual to engage. But the car came to a stop—a little sharper than he’d intended, but that was likely his own fault for letting his brother and sister distract him.

“Whatever, Marc. You could have just said that you weren’t interested in joining us.”

“Catch you later,” Lilah added to Richard’s asshole comments and then ended the call.

Dropping his head back against the headrest, Marc closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was moments like this that he missed his mother. She’d have some great little bit of wisdom about not letting the comments of small people get to him or even that his brother had a stick shoved so far up his ass that it was blocking blood flow to his brain. She was always so good about keeping the peace in the family, while their father liked to stir up the chaos and animosity.

A car horn jolted his eyes back open. He looked into the rearview mirror to find another vehicle waiting behind him at the stop sign. Time to wake up, focus on the work ahead of him, and forget about his damn family. Once he got this new artist settled, the final walk-through for the new show completed, he could consider his other personal problem…and his family.

With a sigh, he pressed the gas and turned right, down the winding hill. He was just a few miles from the on-ramp to the expressway that would take him to downtown. This was always his favorite part of the drive. During the spring and summer, it was a blur of bright green as the trees lining the road rushed past the window. The fall held a brief explosion of colors. But they were still a couple of months from the heart of spring. Right now, the trees were bare brown against a bleak gray sky. But even the lackluster scenery couldn’t detract from his drive. The winding road was filled with tight turns as it cut down out of the hills. The Porsche so easily hugged those turns, allowing him to push it faster and faster, getting his blood pumping. For a moment, he could forget about all his worries and just concentrate on driving.

Coming up on the first significant turn, Marc pressed carefully on the brakes…and nothing happened. The Porsche continued to speed toward the turn, its own momentum keeping the car moving far too fast. He pressed hard, putting the pedal down to the floor of the car. The car didn’t slow for more than just the impact of a little friction from the tires on the road.

“Fuck!”

Marc’s heart thundered in his ears and his fingers tightened painfully around the steering wheel. This couldn’t be a coincidence. The car was less than two months old. The brakes had been perfect just the day before.

He shoved the thought aside and focused on pumping the brakes. If he could get enough brake fluid built up…but it didn’t work as he tried to slow the car again.

Clenching his teeth, he shifted the car into a lower gear. The Porsche jolted as if insulted by the rough treatment but slowed enough for Marc to manage the turn. He was forced to drift into the opposite lane. Luckily, no one was coming toward him.

He whipped the car back into his lane and allowed himself a breath of relief, but it was short-lived. The grade of the incline steepened, and the car wasn’t slowing enough for him to comfortably take the rest of the turns. And then at the bottom of the hill was a busy intersection that would dump him into significant traffic.

Another curse slipped from his lips as he gripped the emergency brake. He had no choice. He tried to slowly apply the emergency brake, but it was a crude instrument compared to the main brakes. The car lurched and jerked, starting to spin. He turned the wheel into the spin, fighting to regain control of the car, but the road was too damn narrow. There wasn’t enough room to maneuver. His lovely Porsche sideswiped the guardrail on the driver’s side. The car slowed significantly as the sound of screaming metal on metal filled his ears.

Fighting the car, he yanked the wheel to bring the Porsche back into his lane, but a truck was coming up the hill, moving too damn fast around the next turn. The driver tried to avoid Marc, but they were already too close. Marc’s entire body clenched for the impact as the truck’s front bumper caught the rear end of the Porsche, sending the car into a sickening spin.

Glass exploded inward and Marc barely managed to get his left arm up to protect his face, though he could no longer tell which way he was pointed. He released the wheel and just prayed that the truck had spun him in the direction of the hill rising up along the side of the road rather than the steep drop.

He didn’t know how long the car drifted. Couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds but it felt significantly longer before the passenger side slammed into something solid and stopped moving completely.

Marc groaned and rested his head back against his seat with his eyes closed. Adrenaline pumped through his body, and he could feel blood running down his hand and arm. The pain hadn’t kicked in yet, but he could guess that it was going to be bad.

Before the rush of ambulances, cops, and chaos finally broke through the eerie silence of the moment, he had enough clarity of thought to realize one thing.

Someone was trying to kill him.